A Villain's Apathy
by Varthen
Summary: Artemis Entreri once again returns to Calimport after his adventure in the Bloodstone Lands with Jarlaxle. Taking on an assignment given to him by his friend Dwahvel, Entreri finds himself responsible for keeping an eye on Erevis Cale and Drasek Riven.
1. Chapter 1

A Villain's Apathy:

Prologue:

Artemis Entreri sat alone on a rock outside of Calimport, a thoughtful frown painted across his sinister features. To the left of the rock lay a bloodstained cloak, his cloak though not his blood, and to its right lay three nameless brigands, dead. Two of them were missing their head, the remaining, would-be killer had a neat stab wound in his stomach where Artemis had drained his life.

Sand speckled his vision of the city, of his home, but he need not see to know upon what he was staring. The end of the trail, the center of his life, the single place he always ended up returning to.

"Jarlaxle," Pronounced Artemis, drawing the name out, as if pondering the meaning of it. "Gareth," Again the assassin drew each syllable out, lengthening the word.

Entreri's fist tightened, excruciatingly so, "Calihye," His voice was a mere whisper, the veins in his hands became more defined as his fist tensed even further, his fingernails drawing blood.

The ominous man's eyes flared with rage, and the first hint of anger leaked into his voice as he repeated, "Jarlaxle." Entreri paused considering the drow elf, "Meddling bastard."

His anger passed, his fist loosened and his eyes mellowed.

Entreri looked down at his bleeding hand, savoring the shimmering red color of the blood that leaked from the cut. And sneered when he saw that the cut was already closing, a reminder of the alien life force that flowed through him.

Another legacy of his and Jarlaxle's adventurers together, thought Artemis and he said again his earlier observation. "Meddling bastard."

If it hadn't been for the fool dark elf none of this would've happened. And for that, and many other things, Entreri hated him.

And for that, Entreri hated himself. Hated himself for allowing the mercenary to play him as he had, like a flute one might say.

"Calihye." Repeated Entreri, closing his eyes relishing the taste, the very texture of the word.

Artemis Entreri had faced the streets of Calimport without a drop of fear, had survived rape, faced off with wizards and priests, monks and even dark elves. Artemis Entreri had done battle with perhaps the greatest drow to ever traverse the Underdark. Had fought a dracolich, gone toe-to-toe with renowned heroes from across the land and matched wits with a paladin king. And he had done so without fear, without hesitation.

But Calihye's betrayal was one thing that he couldn't handle. He had let down his guard, allowed someone to see past the assassin and truly see the man that lay beneath.

And he had been betrayed because of it, would've died because of it if it hadn't been for that meddling bastard.

A startled gasp drew the gray-eyed assassin' attention. A man clad in a tattered yellow cloak, a simple leather jerkin and plain white breaches stood at the ready, a falchion in hand.

"You killed them, York, Ulrich, Laith, you bastard." The man breathed heavily, "I…I'll kill you!" The man charged forward and swung horizontally with his falchion.

Entreri timed his roll perfectly, the falchion tasting only air as Entreri hit the ground in a kneeling position and sneered.

It took only a single heartbeat for Entreri to free his sword and dagger, rise to a guarded crouch and send Charon's Claw racing towards his opponent's heart.

The man slapped the sword away with surprising speed and managed to dance back just in time to avoid the jeweled dagger in Artemis' off-hand.

Entreri actually grinned; a slaughter was just what he needed.

* * *

Dwahvel Tiggerwillies allowed a hint of a frown to creep along her comely face, the halfling opposite her smiled in turn.

The two halflings sat at the opposite ends of a round table carved from oak and specifically sized for their race's unique stature. Piled in the middle of the table was a stack of gold and silver coins, the pot.

Each halfling had two cards set in front of them, one face up, the other down so only the player whose hand it was could see the card. Whoever had the strongest hand, would win the pot. Though the game wasn't so much about the money as it was the entertainment. At the beginning of the game, which had thus far lasted a good two hours, their had been six of them, but they had all since pulled out.

The halfling opposite Dwahvel flipped his cards over with a wide smirk, "Pair o' Stilettos." The stiletto was worth nine points apiece, meaning her opponent had eighteen points, a hard hand to beat.

Dwahvel kept her face clear, "That's of, Stance, you have a pair _of_ Stilettos." Stance, her opponent, chuckled, a chuckle that was cut short as Dwahvel flipped her hand.

"A pair of daggers." Announced the guild leader confidently, "That's twenty." She smiled as she reached over and raked in her coin, "I win."

"You got lucky." Stance stood up and wiped his right hand through his salt-and-pepper hair, "That's all."

"This coming from a priest of Brandobaris." Replied the woman, "Guess that's what you get worshipping a god that proclaims trickery as one of his domains, eh?"

"Hey now," Argued the priest in good humor, "Not my fault I was raised mischievous." The aging priest flashed a smile, showing teeth that were slightly yellowed from all of the pipe weed he smoked, "Besides as you yourself implied, luck is also one of his fields."

Dwahvel offered the priest—who doubled as one of her lieutenants—a friendly smile.

"Mistress Dwahvel!" Called a voice from across the room.

Mast was little, even for a halfling, but he was young, barely into adulthood. His brown hair traveled down to his shoulders where it fell over his ragged white tunic, he wore his brown breeches baggy, with strategic placed tears running up and down there length. A pair of small daggers sat at his hip, the weapons hilt showed little wear.

He was cocky, so much so that he'd already given himself the alias 'Brightknife', a name that his superiors, in good humor, laughed at behind his back.

"What is it Mast?"

"The Entreri." Answered the winded halfling, breathing heavily.

Dwahvel smiled, since when had people started referring to Artemis as 'the'. "What about him, what happened?"

"He's…he's back, back in Calimport."

The halfling's eyebrows shot up at that, "Where?"

"I don't know." Answered Mast, "Some guards were chasing me down a street and out of no where this man in a gray cloak appeared. He pulled back his hood and the guards seemed to recognize him, like they'd seen him somewhere before, than they turned and ran away."

"And the man?"

"I asked him who he was and he just sneered and said, in a voice that chilled my blood, Entreri, Artemis Entreri." Mast looked up at Dwahvel, as if looking for approval, "He had this creepy looking sword at his belt and a dagger with a jewel set in the hilt."

"Charon's Claw." Said Dwahvel aloud, recognizing the weapon that Artemis had acquired during his last stay in Calimport, alongside a band of drow. "What else did he say?"

"Nothing much ma'am, only that I tells you what I just told you."

Dwahvel frowned thoughtfully, Stance looked at her curiously, "What does it mean."

"It means," Answered Dwahvel "That we can expect a visit from our old friend very soon."

"Should I warn the doormen?" Asked Stance.

"No, I know Entreri, he has no quarrel with us." She paused. "And if he did than I suspect that warning them would do no good."

The priest frowned, "I remember seeing the man around here a few times when I first joined the guild, but I always thought he was a little overrated myself, is he really that good, or does that stare of his just insight fear?"

"Yes."

"To which?"

"Both, not a halfling here, no not a three could cross swords with that man and survive. And I imagine he'd have another six to scared to try by the time he finished the first."

"Well than," Stance rubbed the well-worn dagger at his side, "I'm glad he's on our side."

"I'll be in my room," Said the guild leader unexpectedly, "When he arrives show him to me, no delays."

Stance, and everyone else in the room that'd been listening in, nodded. None of them would question Dwahvel, to whom they trusted as a sister.

* * *

Artemis Entreri found himself turning down the street to The Copper Ante without thought, so familiar was the way.

To any normal man the fact that the guards of the city still remembered his face, and knew to run would have summoned a sense of pride, not to Entreri. To the master assassin, it was all too normal, too routine.

Of course to any other assassin the fact that the guards recognized them would have been a bad thing. Not to Artemis Entreri, not to the man who had never once tried to keep his presence concealed to the guard.

For Entreri, while yes he was a master of stealth, relied more on his fighting capabilities than he did his sneakiness. So much so that instead of, for instance, infiltrating some traitors hiding place and stabbing him in the back, Entreri would simply walk in and slay whoever drew steel.

And that, more than anything, was how he had become so feared.

No one could touch Artemis in open combat, until that is he had met Drizzt on his way to kill Regis, an incident that had spanned years.

Drizzt Do'Urden, ranger, and hero of Icewind Dale. The only man to have ever bested him in open combat and lived to tell of it, well he had lived, at least for a couple of years.

Drizzt Do'Urden, the man that had laid Entreri's soul bare and inspected his soul, read his mind and come to know the assassin better than the assassin had thought possible.

Drizzt Do'Urden, the man that had dared to call Entreri's life nothing, call it meaningless. And stand firm against his rage, his obsession with being the best.

Drizzt Do'Urden, the man that Entreri had later killed with his bare hands, settling the rivalry.

Drizzt Do'Urden, the man that had torn a hole in Entreri's philosophy and led to his own self-doubt in what he was doing.

Drizzt Do'Urden, a man whose words, whose ideals and whose scimitars still haunted Entreri from beyond the grave.

Drizzt Do'Urden, the man that Entreri found he didn't carry any hate for, at least not any longer.

The Copper Ante came into view than; two halfling guards stood at the door, loaded crossbows in hand and short swords at their belt. Entreri recognized one of the guard's faces, but couldn't think of his name.

"Master Entreri, we've been expecting you." Said the guard whose name Entreri could not place.

"I suspected as much, I suppose the runt made it back alright?"

The other halfling, the one who Artemis didn't know spoke, "Yes sir, and on behalf of the Copper Ante we thank you." He offered the thankful grin that seemed so right when seen on a halfling's face.

No name did the same, "You're here to see Mistress Tiggerwillies correct?"

"Yes." Answered the assassin.

The halfling that was unknown to him opened the door and whispered something, "You may enter, Lieutenant Stance shall direct you to Dwahvel."

"I know the way." Said Artemis as he walked through the door and saw the priest awaiting him. "I need not your help Lieutenant."

"Nonetheless I insist." Replied the aging priest rubbing the holy symbol he wore around his neck, a halfing's footprint.

"Fine." The man that the guards had named as Stance led him through the Copper Ante's main room where several halflings greeted him with kind waves while other seemed to draw away from him, Entreri found that he preferred the latter.

They passed the same room where Entreri had killed his dear friend Don Don, a mercy killing in the eyes of Artemis. There were more smiles as Entreri passed and came to Dwahvel's door.

Stance raised his hand to knock but found Entreri's hand already turning the knob. And when it opened he found a smiling Dwahvel, warm brown eyes looking into his.

Entreri entered and closed the door before Stance could say a thing.

"Well, I see your manners haven't improved any." Said Dwahvel as Entreri moved over to the desk between him and her.

"You're correct," Answered Entreri, arching an eyebrow when he saw that Dwahvel had brought in a human sized chair for him. "But than, Jarlaxle wasn't a good man to really learn from."

"Truly?" Inquired the halfling woman, "And here I had him figured for the dinner party type."

"And that was your first mistake, never guess anything with Jarlaxle." Answered the assassin, "But if I had to guess, his idea of etiquette comes from the Underdark, where the word please is a curse." Entreri added. "But all I learned from him was how to properly grope a woman in public, and in turn how to get slapped."

"Quite a character than one." She laughed, "And is he with you?"

"If he was you would've already heard of it no doubt."

"That would be a no, correct?"

"Yes." Answered the assassin, "And if I never see the bastard again it would be to soon."

It was than that Entreri noted the searching look in her eyes than as she scanned the gray pallor of his skin. "I absorbed the life essence of a shade Dwahvel, you can stop looking at me like that."

If she was surprised that he'd noticed, she didn't show it. "A shade?"

"Yes, a creature who has infused him, or herself with shadow." Said the assassin, though he suspected that she already knew of shades.

"And you? Is Artemis Entreri now a shade as well, is Artemis Entreri now more than human?"

"Yes." He shook his head, "No."

"Which is it?" Inquired the curious halfling.

"I don't know." Answered the gray eyed man honestly, "I've seen, and since read, what shades can do. I can't travel the shadows, I can't darken a room with a thought." He shook his head, "But at the same time I feel as if I was ten years younger, like the Entreri of my youth, the one that first left to track down Regis." He held up his hand where his nail had cut it, now a dull pink line, "I heal faster too, not as fast as what I've heard shades do, but faster nonetheless."

"Interesting." Replied the halfling; "I could have a few of my clerics cast a couple of divination spells on you, see what we figure out."

Entreri shook his head, "Jarlaxle already tried that, and all his hired priests found was that there was indeed shadow within me." He paused, "What that means they couldn't figure out, do I know have the lifespan of a shade too, will I eventually turn into one completely, what?"

"I see." Answered Dwahvel. "And what'll you do now, go back and work for one of the guilds?"

He shook his head, "No, actually I was hoping you could find a use for me."

That had her leaning back in her chair, a thoughtful look painted across her face, "We here at The Copper Ante don't have much use for an assassin, but a man of your skills could always come in handy." She looked into Entreri's eyes, "Your skill at arms could easily serve to bolster our guard, and no one would dare attack if they knew we had you in our arsenal."

"So?" Asked the assassin.

"So," Replied the woman, "Your also a master of stealth are you not."

"Yes, though I've always preferred to depend on my steel."

"All the better." She smiled, "Sometimes, when suspicious characters come into town the guilds, or some of the businesses ask The Copper Ante to keep an eye on them." Entreri nodded, seeing where she was going.

"And who better than I, who can not only sneak, but cut my way out of any situation if things go bad."

"Exactly." She paused letting Entreri think about the proposition, "So what do you think?"

Entreri answered almost before she quit talking "I'll do it." A sly smirk came to his face, "What do you want me to do?"

Dwahvel smiled, "Well the halfling I normally assign to these missions, Boris, is already on an assignment tracking a priest of Bane and his wizard comrade." She paused, "And recently a duo from Selgaunt have come to town, by the names Erevis Cale and Drasek Riven."

"And you want to track them?" Entreri frowned, something about the name Riven seemed familiar.

"Yes, the Three Merchants Shipping Company had hired us to watch them."

"I'll do it, where do I start?"

* * *

The Shining Sea lived up to its name in the eyes of Erevis Cale as he peered over the deck of _The_ _Baron's Riot._

Reaching into the inside pocket of his supple gray cloak he withdrew a pipe and rubbed in against his oiled leathers, giving it a polished shine. Cale couldn't keep the smile from his face as he loaded the bowl with pipeweed and lit it; his hardened gaze scanning the dock ward of Calimport.

"It your first time here?" Inquired a voice behind him, a voice that belonged to the captain of the ship. He was a middle-aged man with a thick goatee and short, ear length black hair. A cutlass hung at his belt, its hilt showing the wear and tear of heavy usage. His green eyes were kind and the smile on his face disarming.

"Yes." Said Cale, turning around to lean against the railing he comfortably rested his hand on the hilt of his long sword, _Weaveshear._ "My uncle's recently fallen ill, so my brother and I our going to be managing his shop while he's resting." The lie rolled as easily off his tongue as a raindrop over his baldhead.

"Speaking of your brother," The captain nodded in the direction of the main deck, "the man's a devil with those sabers of his. You two adventurers or something?"

"Something." Answered Cale cryptically, flashing a friendly smile. "So tell me Cap, why are you and the Baron here anyways? You're a pirate hunting vessel aren't you?"

"Yeah, but The Three Merchant's Shipping Company recently commissioned us to find out who's behind the increase in sea attacks on ships out of Calimport." The captain shrugged. "Once we set down in dock a special crew is coming to disguise us as a merchant vessel. We're going to bait them in and sever their heads."

"And if they happen to have more men than you what th—" Erevis was cut off by the sound of something heavy hitting the floor, followed by another.

Cale looked at the man in front of him, towards the noise, and back at the captain again. "I think now would be a pretty good time to check up on brother dearest."

"Yes. I concur."

Drasek Riven was a small man, though he was easily the equal of any swordsmen Cale had ever laid eyes on. His long black hair was kept back and out of his face in a loose ponytail. Over the scarred hole of his left eye he wore a black eye patch that held tightly to his face ensuring that it wouldn't slip off.

Discarded to the side lay his leather jerkin and scarlet cloak, forgotten in the heat of battle as Riven spun his practice blades in a blur of movement.

A trio of sailors pressed in around him formed into a neat and practiced triangle, their practice swords darting forward with a practiced grace. And Riven repulsed each one of their attacks keep his blades moving at a mesmerizing pace, he would counter before the sailor at the end of his sword could hope to press the attack.

And judging by the two men who lay on the floor next to the dancing quartet of warriors, it was a fight that Drasek was winning.

"That's enough!" Announced the captain, putting a hand on the hilt of his cutlass, a gentle reminder of his authority. "We're almost to port now."

"Yes Captain Veln!" Replied the men standing around and watching the sparring match. The tired men that were facing Riven lowered their swords and offered a tired salute. The men on the floor just grunted.

"Showing off Riven?" Cale asked walking forward to stand before his friend, noting the way that even after the battle his breath remained steady.

"Hardly." Answered the former Black Network assassin. "It was exercise is all."

Both Erevis Cale and Drasek Riven, the first and second of Mask turned to regard the approaching image of Calimport. Cale asked, "So why do you think Mask called us here?"

"I don't know." Replied Riven. "And I imagine things will stay that way until the last moment."

"Just like Mask always does." Spat Erevis, shadows blossoming from his skin and painting his complexion black.

"Just like Mask always does." Agreed Riven.

And standing in the shadows of the Dock Ward of Calimport Artemis Entreri patiently awaiting their arrival.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter One: When Shadows Cross 

Erevis Cale smiled, something's never changed it would seem, no matter the location.

_The Silver Dagger, _a tavern of disputable reputation, was crawling with would be adventures, most of which, Cale assumed, would end up as merchant guards. The youth of the tavern stepped with the self-assured swagger of untested youth, their hands resting uncomfortably near to their weapons.

To his left he heard Riven snicker as a hot-headed adolescent thought to draw steel on his gambling partner, a heavily armored dwarf whose heavy mace seemed to appear in hand before the human's blade was halfway out its sheathe.

The would-be adventurer hit the floor soon after, two minutes top.

"Damn itchies." Muttered the red-cloaked assassin displeasingly. The assassin's hands rested at his side, perfectly at ease, Riven knew the level of his abilities and he knew that walking around with hands on hilts would be more of a discomfort than help if battle were to breakout.

"Agreed." Said Erevis thinking to see if the youth was alright, a thought that was slain as a Tymoran priest rushed over to the boy. "The first rule of bar fighting—"

"Stay the hells away from the dwarf." Finished Riven who knew well the battle prowess of the stout folk, though he did not fear it he was not fool enough to underestimate it.

The duo spotted an empty table towards the corner of the room and silently made their way to it, avoiding the rest of the crowd.

An elf clad in the robes of a wizard and his fire gensai companion wearing a broad sword at her hip, stepped forward to intercept them. "This is our table friends, you'll have to find another."

"Really?" Inquired Riven smiling sinisterly. "I don't believe your being completely honest, do you?" The female fire gensai stepped forward, looking the assassin up and down. "Nay, I think you should leave this table to us."

The elf chuckled, "Do you now?" He looked at his companion and gave her a nod when she turned to regard her cohort.

Seeing his nod she grinned and snapped her wrist, drawing a dagger hidden within her sleeve, and turned around in a reddish blur aiming her knife for Riven's throat. The attack was quick, quicker than the assassin had expected, but he was faster still.

Drasek Riven dropped down into a practiced crouch, the dagger whizzed right over his head causing the gensai to widen her base to compensate for the sudden switch in momentum. Riven drew a dagger from his boot and came to his feet before the trailing end of his cloak even touched the carpet.

Bringing the pommel of the dagger up hard he struck her underneath the jaw throwing her further off balance. He finished by kicking out her wide spread feet causing her to tumble backwards, grabbing the front of her tunic to hold her up with her legs still out from underneath her and slammed his dagger's pommel up against the side of her skull.

She fell without a sound.

At the same moment that the gensai had drawn her dagger the wizard had unsheathed a wand from his belt and loosed a greenish bolt of necromantic energy at the shade with a word. But that single word was still long enough for Erevis Cale to unsheathe his magical sword of black steel, Weaveshear and bring it around to intercept the attack.

The blade vibrated in his hand as the blade caught and absorbed the spell, Cale smiled, the elf paled. Leveling the sword he freed the spell from its steel prison, throwing it right back at the caster.

The elf gasped and fell to his knees as the spell struck, his face peeling as if a piece of his soul had been torn from his heart, which, Cale suspected, might not be to far from the truth.

The gasping elf looked up with fear filled eyes as Cale forcibly lifted his chin with Weaveshear's tip, "Leave." Commanded the priest of Mask.

"And take your friend with you." Added Riven throwing the downed gensai at his feet, "She'll be up and about in an hour or so."

The elf did as he was told and scampered away on wobbly legs, struggling to support his broader more muscular companion.

The dwarf with the mace who had knocked out the youth yelled from across the room in a jovial voice. "Impressive!" Those who had seen the battle clapped. "A bad situation well handled, and I can't say I didn't enjoy the look in the elf's eyes."

"Aye, a honey mead for the both of ye." Said the bartender. "On the house."

* * *

An hour later Drasek Riven found himself very uncomfortable.

The dwarf from earlier, the priest who had tended the fallen youth and a bramble of others had gathered around them, asking questions, telling stories, and asking more questions. And Drasek Riven wasn't the social type.

And so it was that when he finally became aware of the shadowy figure peering at him stealthily between sips of his drink, honey mead like their own, he was almost relieved.

Riven smiled and waved.

The man nodded towards the door.

Riven nodded back.

"I'll be back." Informed Riven as he rose from his seat. "I've a few errands I have to run."

A few more muttered courtesies to those gathered and Riven turned to leave, flashing a single sign in thieves cant meaning simply 'watcher'.

* * *

Artemis Entreri couldn't help but be surprised by how easily he'd been spotted, never before, not since his first days as a hunter of men, had that happened.

But Artemis Entreri knew how to improvise and was already formulating a cover story by the time he exited the door. He was a member of the guard assigned to watch that tavern, to make sure nothing illegal happened, and, when circumstance provided, to accept bribes.

It was a solid story one that Entreri knew to leave him enough wiggling room if something unexpected were to come about.

He turned towards the sound of his approaching prey, the one known as Drasek Riven, with a smile.

And met him in a clash of steel.

Entreri saw the glint of drawn steel out of the corner of his eye as he turned to speak to the mysterious visitor. The man was no more than six feet from him sabers raised for the kill when Artemis noticed him, and still he managed to draw both his blades and meet the man in a X parry, so fast was he.

"I don't want to fight you." Said Entreri breaking off and giving himself room to move, Charon's Claw held low for a sweeping parry while his dagger sat parallel with his hip, ready to thrust forward.

"Of course you don't Artemis Entreri." Said his adversary, surprising Artemis with the use of his name. "No one wishes to die."

Artemis settled down into a ready crouch, muscles tense. "You know not who you face Zhent." Answered the killer.

"I face a man whose abilities with the sword struck fear into even the highest operatives of the black network." Growled Riven. "You don't remember me do you?" Entreri shook his head. "Good, than you can take that question to the grave."

Riven charged. Entreri shook his head.

Clearing the last foot between them with a quick leap Riven came in with his left saber coming in hard and fast, its point aimed for his belly. Entreri brought Charon's claw up in a diagonal parry, knocking the saber high. But even as Riven's feet touched the ground he was reversing his momentum into a hard right spin, swerving out of the way of Entreri's infamous dagger while at the same time bringing his right saber around in hard swing.

Entreri ducked under the blow and with his sword up high and his dagger out to the right and than did the only thing he could, he brought his sword arm around in a circle putting his magical sword out behind him, tucked his shoulder and slammed into Riven's midsection.

The red cloaked slayer hit the ground on the upper portion of his back and used his momentum to come right back to his feet, his left foot connect solidly with Entreri's jaw as he thought to charge the downed man.

Entreri spat, saw no blood and charged again.

He came in fast, swinging his weapons in a blur of motion so fast that he suspected that even Drizzt would've been off balance guarding himself from it.

As it was Riven caught both of his blades in the crook of his upraised X parry, just as Artemis had hoped he would. Using his shade infused strength the Calimport assassin forced the smaller assassin back finally swerving to put Drasek's back against the side of the ally.

If Riven was troubled he didn't show it as he used the leverage provided by the wall to bring his feet up slam them against Entreri's midsection.

Entreri's leathers absorbed the brunt of the blow but still he felt his muscles protest the kick and was forced to stagger back a few steps.

Still he smiled, true he had yet to connect a blow, true this Drasek Riven character had landed two but Entreri had him right where he wanted now, up against the wall.

* * *

Dwahvel could feel Stance peering at her back as she stared out the window of her office.

Boris still hadn't yet returned, he was two hours late; 'late' was a word few would apply to the stout halfling. Dwahvel quietly pondered these thoughts, despite Stance's presence she felt completely comfortable.

Her trusted lieutenant had become a common sight around her office, he was dependable, clever, slow to rush to judgment but able to think on his feet. The brunette halfling liked the man, if it hadn't been for her knowledge of Stance's recently departed wife, slain by slavers, she might've allowed herself to grow closer.

The guild leader had met few men in her life that she had found attractive, not in face or in body; they were all to common, but in mind. Dwahvel was a lady of intellect, not of vanity she cared more for a clever turn of phrase than she did a chiseled jaw line.

"Stance." Said the halfling, "Gather your things, we're going to find Boris."

"Yes ma'am." The priest offered a brief bow. "Should I send someone to check in on Artemis as well? He was do back twenty minutes ago."

"I know." Dwahvel turned to face him. "But fear not for the life of Artemis Entreri, he's harder to kill than you seem to realize."

"He has powerful enemies." Countered her lieutenant.

Dwahvel looked at him and shook her head smiling. "Listen well to these next few words my friend." Stance leaned forward. "Only the dead underestimate the likes of Artemis Entreri."

"Why the dead?"

"Because they've no life left to lose."

The look on her face told Stance all he needed to know of the measure of Artemis Entreri.

* * *

Charon's Claw came in hard with a wide sweeping cut.

Drasek Riven could've dodged to the left but knew that that was what his adversary more than likely expected so instead he parried his stronger foe's sword with his right saber. The two blades collided in an explosion of sparks and a force that would've ripped Riven's defending saber from his hand had he not rolled his wrist with the parry.

Entreri's infamous dagger came in than thrusting for his gut Riven brought his sword in close slapping it aside. The Zhent thought to get inside the Calimport assassin's guard by bringing his right saber up in a vertical slash right that would land underneath Artemis' underarm.

But Entreri had expected the simple counter and launched into an unorthodox spin, bringing his dagger around in a circle fast enough to stop the deadly weapon.

And than came Charon's Claw from the left, racing towards Riven's head. The red-cloaked swordsman only just managed to bring his left saber up in time to stop the blow, its red-black blade slamming hard against its basket hilt.

The force of the blow threw Riven's arm back, rendering it, if only for a second, unable to offer a decisive parry. Knowing full well that if he went for the kill that his adversary would just throw himself to the still open side and dodge the attack.

So instead he swung for the saber's midsection. The jeweled dagger hit the weapon hard, forcing Riven to compensate by leaning to the left, the direction of the swinging dagger.

Drasek Riven thought to come back with a quick vertical slash when Entreri stopped his spin and set his feet, but Entreri didn't stop his spin.

Instead he came around with a low kick to the shin, dropping Riven to the street floor. Still Riven quickly improvised and began to roll away before Artemis' blades could reach his flesh, but not his boot.

Entreri stomped down hard on the trailing blade of Riven's left hand saber, forcing him to let go as he rolled away.

Entreri kicked the blade out behind him, thinking the battle almost won.

Riven recovered quickly coming to his feet in a deadly crouch, his feet spread wide. And faster than Entreri could've expected, faster than Entreri could have done himself, a dagger appeared in Riven's free hand.

And in the next heartbeat it was racing towards the assassin of Calimport.

* * *

Dwahvel tightened the last buckle of her gray leather armor, tightened the last strap and put on her poker face. At her stout black belt she wore an unadorned short sword and her customary daggers, each of them perfectly balanced. She wore knee high; soft-soled boots and black leggings, to top it off she threw a green tabard over the leathers.

When she looked in the mirror next to her she knew she was ready, no longer did she appear the kindly, harmless guildmaster, nay, far from. Her hair was up in a bun to keep it out of her face if she needed to fight, her cherubic cheeks seemed leaner than they ever had before in the dresses she typically favored. And her eyes were no longer the twin pools of warmth that the guild new, but the cold, sharp, calculating daggers of a woman who had made her way through life with her wits and, when necessary, her blades.

She appeared the equal of any rouge on the Calimport streets now; in truth she was the better of many.

Out of the corner of the mirror she spied Stance, fully suited in leather, his traditional dagger, the one normally worn at his hip, shoved into his boot replaced by an ornate looking short sword. Her eyebrow arched at that, in all time that she had known the priest she had never seen him take the sword, _The Queen Of Diamonds,_ from its display in his room.

When she turned to face him he smiled kindly, "It was my wife's." Explained the priest.

"Why use it now?" Asked the guild leader.

"Well." Stance began, "I got to thinking, my wife…she was a warrior." He paused. "She loved battle, she enjoyed it some might even say to much."

"And?" Dwahvel inquired.

"She wouldn't want it sitting in some glass case on display." He ran his hand over the hilt of the weapon tenderly. "She would want its blade to continue its journey, wherever it might end up." The priest ran his finger beneath his eye, wiping away the tear that had blossomed there. "Even if I do die, and I do lose the sword, well…that's okay. That just means that one day someone else will swing it in defense of the right."

"You made a good decision." Her voice was soft, in a motherly manner almost.

Stance shook his head violently, "But come." Said he. "We've things to do, Boris might be in trouble."


	3. Chapter 3

_**Chapter Two: Fancy Gibberish**_

Entreri saw the dagger darting towards him, saw the way the his adversary watched its flight and moved forward, his remaining saber held in a two-handed grip, every bit the professional, never underestimating his opponent.

And Drasek Riven was right in doing so for Artemis Entreri wasn't one to die so easily.

Entreri stepped forward and leaned to the right, taking the dagger in the shoulder. It was a daring move and one that few could bring themselves to do, actually stepping in to a knife's path, and one that caught even Drasek Riven by surprise.

Clamping his jeweled dagger between his teeth Entreri tore the dagger from his shoulder and snapped his wrist, sending it spinning towards Drasek. Riven slapped it away with the flat of his blade, never slowing.

Returning his jeweled dagger to its rightful place Entreri parried Riven's downward swing with Charon's Claw, filling the alley once more with the sound of Clashing steel.

Before Entreri could hope plant his dagger in the Zhent's stomach Riven broke off, backing out of range and charged forward again with heart-stopping speed.

Turning his wrist to the right Riven closed with Artemis and swung his saber, right-to-left. Throwing his hips out wide Entreri managed to avoid the brunt of the blow but couldn't completely avoid the attack as the saber ripped through the flesh of his abdomen.

Tightening his grip on Charon's claw he punched out with his sword arm, connecting solidly upside Riven's temple. The assassin stumbled to the left, his eyes widening and vision blurry and Artemis took advantage.

Bracing himself Entreri brought his knee up hard, connecting with Riven's nose, hearing a satisfying crunch. Riven spat blood and found himself up against the alley's wall, his guard open.

And Entreri's Jeweled dagger came in hard, aiming for the Zhent's heart, none who lifted a blade against Artemis Entreri could survive.

Unfortunately for Entreri, it took more than that to kill Drasek Riven.

Through gritted teeth Riven muttered a curse and brought his fist up in an uppercut, Screwing with Entreri's aim.

The blade sank hilt deep into Riven's lower abdomen, and through that wound Entreri drank Riven's life energy, clearing the bruises from earlier and closing the wound in his shoulder.

And words of vile darkness poured forth from Riven's mouth even as he grabbed Entreri's wrist and pulled the dagger free.

Artemis' eyes crossed, his head swam with pain while his stomach's contents turned. Acting on instinct he pushed his adversary away and turned his formidable mental abilities on quelling the pain and light-headedness that that rushed through his body.

And it worked. "I'll ask this only once," Said Artemis, his voice strong "Who are you?"

His adversary grunted and withdrew a small stone from a pouch at his belt. "Riven." Answered the killer. "Drasek Riven, formerly of the Black Network and chosen of the Shadowlord, second of five."

"Mask?" Questioned Artemis with a frown, how could the man sound so confident with a wound like that one?

"Indeed." Riven spoke a word of power, causing the stone in his hand to glow with energy that in turn grew to envelop his body.

When the light disappeared and Riven was once more visible Entreri couldn't keep the curse from his lips.

The stab would in Riven's abdomen had disappeared as did the break in his nose in the wake of what must have been a powerful healing spell.

* * *

"Dark and empty." Cursed Stance, a profanity he had learned of in his travels.

The road before them, Heart's Widow Avenue was lined with tall cedars with a single, working class tavern bordering it. _The Knight's stallion,_ was a quaint two-story building built entirely from stone, it had a pleasant reputation as a watering hole, it's skilled team of bouncers, all of them ex-soldiers kept bar fights to a minimum.

It was also one of Dwahvel's favorite spots for gathering information, few knew it but the tavern's owner, Ronald Nightlight was a close friend of hers and a spy for the Copper Ante and a former member of the same adventuring company that Stance had worked for.

_The Knight's Stallion_ was also the inn that Boris' target group had been staying at.

Dwahvel pushed open the door to the inn and frowned when she came upon drawn steel. Two dark haired human men holding wide-bladed Khopesh and wearing the garb of a bouncer stood at the ready, small bloody wounds covering their forms stood before her.

"What's the meaning of this?" Asked Dwahvel in a calm level voice glancing at the steel pointed towards her with detached annoyance.

A white clad dwarf appeared behind the bouncers before they could hope to answer her. "Why don't you tell me?" The dwarf put a hand to the broadsword at his hip and looked at her from beneath bushy black eyebrows.

Ronald Nightlight was the epitome of fitness, his shoulders were broad, even for a dwarf, but his body narrowed towards his hips, only half the width of his chest. His black beard hung halfway down his chest and, Dwahvel noted, was covered in blood.

"What do you mean?" Asked the halfling, noting the way Stance's hand inched closer to his wife's short sword.

"You kno' what I mean!" Yelled the dwarf angrily, "Boris!"

Stance asked "What about him? Do you know what happened to him?"

"Do I kno' what hap…" The dwarf's jaw tightened with rage. "I'll tell you what happened to him! Fool halfling comes in here and sits for a spell, all calm and the like making a little conversation with these two guys, foreigners from the looks of them." Dwahvel and Stance looked at each other. "And than once they leave, go up to their room, the ass signals to one of my lass', figure he's going to order another drink or some such." Ron's fist tightened. "But what's he do, he stabs her in the guts is what he do!"

Dwahvel felt a headache coming on. "Your certain?"

"Hell yeah I am." Roared the tavern master. "And than when my Bouncers draw on him, to arrest him and the like, he whips out those swords of his and sets to work." Stance gasped. "And you know as well as I, how skilled that little chump is, I had to take him myself. Opened his stomach from left to right I did."

Dwahvel didn't doubt it, she knew Boris to be skilled with his blades, knew him to be one of the best, but she knew better still that Ron was better. "So he's dead?"

"Don't kno'" Answered Nightlight, "He said some fancy gibberish and disappeared, I'll tell you what though, he won't survive long with his insides hanging out of him like that."

"Fancy gibberish?" Asked Stance.

"Boris doesn't know magic, nor does he possess anything that could teleport him like that."

"So that means that…"

"That those strangers, most likely the targets, most have given it to him."

"Along with a charm spell perhaps?" Questioned Stance.

Dwahvel nodded.

"Fool halfling." Muttered the priest. "All he does the entire conversation is brag about his talents with the blade and what does he do?" Asked the priest, more to himself than to his partner. "He returns to us on the verge of death forcing me to waste a healing spell."

* * *

"Quiet yourself fool." Boris Blooddagger replied. "You yourself advised me against showing them my full abilities."

"Oh so its my fault is it?" Asked the priest of Bane incredulously, "Well you'll have to forgive me if I don't recall telling you to get cut open like that!"

"If I had transformed our cover would've been blown."

"If you'd of transformed no one would be alive to tell the story!" Retorted Kalzu of Bane. He was a little man, his black and green robes seemed far too large for his scrawny frame, as if he was trying to compensate. His salt and pepper hair was kept militaristically short, a reminder of his station as a war priest.

Boris grinned, few men believed him when he told them of his lineage; he more resembled a short dwarf than he did a halfling. Covering his massive frame was a simple blue and yellow shirt paired with a pair of black leggings, at his belt he wore a pair of custom short swords made specifically for him and enchanted by his wizard companion. A single ring, an emerald set in its center, adorned his left hand, the same ring he had used to teleport from. Peering out from beneath his shaggy brown hair his green eyes sparkled with malicious intent.

"Both of you, "Said a third voice. "Shut up."

Cordwin Callen was a somber man, the sleeves of his black tunic came down to the middle of his palm where the hem widened, and his white breeches were loose and covered in pockets. His sinister cloak trailed behind him as he walked towards the bickering duo.

His ear length dark brown hair was clean and well kept, his eyes were of the same shade but his gaze carried something more with it, wickedness flowed within the confines of those caramel colored orbs.

"You dare?" Asked Kalzu in a high-pitched and supremely arrogant voice. "You dare to so disrespect me, Kalzu the emerald?"

Boris took a step back, not from Kalzu but from Cordwin.

"Indeed." The wizard's gaze locked upon the priest, Kalzu mimicked the halfling, backing away from the malicious wizard. "Do you have a problem with that Kalzu the foolish?"

"I…I demand respect from my allies." Kalzu straightened his back, swallowed, bit his lip and looked Callen in the eye.

"Than you demand nothing from me." Answered Cordwin 'The Blue Devil' Callen. "We are not allies, I am a wizard." He pointed to himself, "And you," He than pointed to Kalzu "are a priest of a god who I turned my back upon. We are mutual acquaintances using each other as well as we can. "

"You bonded with a devil yes," Answered Kalzu his posture confident and eyes calm, "You killed the lich Damacarus Drezz, a powerful wizard and ally of the Zhentarim, yes." Kalzu surprised Boris by stepping forward. "But you are a fool if you truly believe that Bane is done with you."

Cordwin didn't flinch. "Step back."

The priest did so.

Callen spun on his heel and walked on towards the group's destination. Boris looked after him with sincere surprise in his eyes, the wizard should have killed Kalzu, he had done just that to greater men and woman before.

Boris looked up at Kalzu and found the man staring after Cordwin; his eyes wide with fear and his posture slumped. It was only than that he realized the source of Kalzu's bravery he had been divinely inspired.

And Callen knew it.

* * *

Entreri and Riven circled each other each weighing the other's skills and abilities.

Entreri was the better swordsmen that much was now proven but the Zhent still had the advantage of that vile language of his, whatever it might be.

So the question that faced them both was this, could Entreri still beat him as Riven spoke those words of power? Could Riven hold off Entreri's assault long enough for him to seize the win with only one saber?

Neither knew the answer.

And Artemis Entreri knew he wouldn't be getting his answer as he felt another presence materialize behind him and cold steel at his neck.

"Now I'll only ask this once," Said the cold, shadow filled voice of Erevis Cale, "Who are you and what is the meaning of this?"


End file.
